Violet Bear
by featherhearts
Summary: Trapped in Sarah's world without his powers, Jareth discovers that he and Sarah have two different sets of memories of her time in the labyrinth - he remembers Toby as a baby, and she insists he was taken at 13. Plots thicken, the fae bring a reckoning...
1. In Which They Meet

"Hullo, Sarah."

That voice ran down her spine like a purr-y, gold caress. Accordingly, Sarah stiffened and her heart began to race – her mind began to catalogue the million and one ways to escape. Jumping out of a window was one of them – but naturally, being a complete and utter bastard, the Goblin King had decided to confront her in the school basement and, even if she'd been small enough to fit into the narrow lockers that lined the hallway, Sarah highly doubted that the thin dented doors would keep the Keeper of the Labyrinth, King of Goblins, Conquerer of Worlds (no doubt), Top Class Prick away for long. So she did the only other thing she could do. She turned around.

The sight of him took Sarah's breath away and turned her knees the consistency of mashed potato. Jareth stood before her, tawny hair gleaming underneath the fluorescent light, arched eyebrows winging over mismatched eyes. He looked almost comically out of place in these mundane school settings; he belonged in a palace at the bottom of the sea, presiding over a ball on the moon, pirating an airship around the rings of Saturn. The sight of him, so elegant and wild and inhuman, made something in her heart ache like she had just seen the dark and lovely outline of a dead tree against the stars or the last ambers of a sunset. "Your fashion sense hasn't improved," she said.

"I didn't dare think that you could be any saucier than before," remarked Jareth. "But I see I was sorely mistaken. And really, my dear, in _garments,_" as he would have said 'plague-ridden rags', "such as you have on currently, you'll have to excuse me if I decide not to take your sartorial criticisms too harshly."

Then he wondered if he had used too many big words for a youth of her times because her attention had obviously strayed from horrified, fascinated observation of his spangled crotch to something else that had to be very much less palatable to judge from her face. "You're not here for Toby are you?" she tried to say coolly, but there was a telltale quiver in her voice that pleased him. Too right she should fear him!

"No, I'm not here for your brother," he said, truthfully. There was a pause, "I'm here for you."

The expression of relief on her face froze and turned into one of almost comical horror. Sarah looked like she was being slapped with a kipper. "W-what?" she choked, slumping against the lockers. "No!"

Irritably, he strode towards her and she backed away, scuttling like a bug up the slippery surface of a bath with the steamy hot water rising too quickly. "You annoying little child!" he snarled. "Do you presume to trifle with my feelings? You called for me again – and I came."

"W-what?! No!"

"When you become my consort, lovely, I'm really going to expand your vocabulary."

"Wha – consor – no!"

"Actually, it's going to be the first thing that will be undertaken once we return home. Well," and here he leered, "maybe not the _first_ thing…"

"Listen," Sarah was gasping, feeling like a hamster high on caffeine was manning the pumps of her heart, "Listen, I – I didn't call you! I promise I didn't! As if I would, after what happened the last time!" Her eyes narrowed dangerously, the chilly affect ruined by the fact she was gulping down air. "This – this better not be some excuse of yours – you had better not be toying with me! _You have no power over me_."

For a moment, that composure of his was shaken. Sarah could see the infinitesimal hint of doubt streak across his eyes, pulling down the corners of his firm, confident mouth. "I heard you, Sarah. It is not well to trifle with me." His voice was cool, restrained and dangerous. It would have made a braver girl than Sarah Williams shudder.

"I _promise_ you," she said earnestly. "I did no such thing. I never thought of doing so." Which did not mean that Sarah had never thought of _him._ Too many feverish nights she had barely been able to sleep for the dreams and half-imaginings – closing her eyes and still feeling his gaze burn into her retinas, waking with a start and feeling a surge of disappointment at the empty darkness of her room. Turning down whatever few dates trickled her way because none of the boys had that same twisting smile, the same high cheekbones and tenor voice and mismatched eyes. Bitterly she remembered the old stories she read of humans once lured into the fairy realm and lucky enough to reemerge but never again able to be satisfied with plain sunlight since their eyes had been dazzled by the four moons of Jupiter. Remembering the rush of discontent, the _longing_ she had harbored in the darkest parts of her heart, Sarah couldn't help but flush and look away. What if she _had_ called for him, subconsciously? What if this was again all her fault?

His eyes were on her face, his voice oddly soft, "… I heard you… so clearly, I heard you."

They were silent. Sarah raised her eyes to find his gaze already on her face and she returned it as steadily as she could, lifting her chin and steeling herself for whatever it was that he would do –

The Goblin King broke the strange stillness with one of his sharp, flamboyant gestures. Tossing his hair, "Well! If that is the case and if my services are not needed, I shall take my leave." He snapped his fingers and waited for the golden glitter to happen. "Goodbye, Sarah."

Sarah almost started forward, her mouth rounding, phrases like "No" and "Stop" and "Don't go" already jostling to be the first out when she realized that he was, in fact, still here. Nothing had happened.

Jareth frowned, his thick, arched brows drawing down forbiddingly and suddenly. He seemed to be delving more deeply, perhaps calling up a little more of that strange and arcane fae power he possessed; the air crackled and wavered as Sarah felt the surge of magic rise about him, stronger than she had felt it before –

And then it stopped. It was like a quick snap and then the magic dwindled so rapidly that it was as if it being there had been a brief and silly dream. Jareth's mouth opened in an 'o' of annoyance and puzzlement and then it slackened and his eyes closed and he fell forward and would have hit the floor if Sarah hadn't caught him in her arms.


	2. In Which Something is Wrong

Sarah staggered under the sudden weight, dragging him up ungracefully by his armpits. The Goblin King felt exceedingly, alarmingly warm in her arms and he was _heavy_. Sarah wondered what to do, she wondered how her life had suddenly come to this – five years of peace and suddenly in her twentieth year, she was stuck in the basement of her university, trying not to drop an unconscious Goblin King on his head. Treacherously, a soft, sweet little thought at the back of her head urged her to simply drop him here and leave him; it tried to tell her that he simply wasn't her problem, that she didn't _have_ to deal this…

_Well, too bad_, thought Sarah grimly, hooking her arms around as much of Jareth as she could possibly handle. _It's just not _right_ to leave him here._

Bit by slow, agonizing bit, she hauled Jareth along the floor. It wasn't the least bit romantic, it was even a little funny – and Sarah dearly hoped that he would forgive her for what she was doing to his pants as a trail of glitter marked the floor. But any urges to giggle hysterically were always choked when she panted down at her burden whose face was so cold and pale and more vulnerable than she had ever seen it before. Every few minutes or so, Sarah had to stop and rest and then it never seemed right to just leave Jareth lying on the floor so she would haul his head onto her lap. Experimentally, she slapped his face lightly and was rewarded by… nothing. He seemed disinclined to do anything but lay there, with that same terrifying slackness about his face, breathing shallow, and that scared her more than anything.

The Goblin King was a dangerous near-stranger but he was also hurt and alone in a strange world that he knew nothing of and Sarah could relate.

Groaning with frustration, Sarah stood up and reassumed her dragging. By this time, her face was a very unbecoming shade of magenta and her hair was plastered to her skull by sweat. And there was still the stairs to navigate. Sarah nearly cried out of sheer frustration and was tempted to smash her head repeatedly against a stone wall. Her head, alarmed at the damage about to be inflicted upon its tender self, hastily threw out an idea. Sarah grabbed onto it like a drowning man, unceremoniously dropping Jareth onto the floor (though, being hardly strong enough to carry him, there wasn't a great deal of distance to go), and hauled out her cell phone – a big, black affair that really deserved its own set of wheels but would do the trick.

The basement got no cell phone reception.

Sarah threw back her head, howled a little, and did a dance of sheer temper. Then with a stern and unneeded, "Don't go anywhere," to a prone Jareth, she vaulted up several flights of stairs and nearly cried again – this time with pure relief – when someone picked up.

"Can you get to the school right now?"

"Holy willikers! You sound horrible! You're all gasp-y."

"I wish you'd stop saying that. Just – just get here, alright? I need help."

Toby hung up, with a sense of dread curdling in his belly. His big sister was competent, brisk and capable of reducing a grown man to tears if he even had the temerity to flash her. She had never asked for his help before. He hurtled out of the apartment, blond curls flying.

**

Jareth slowly eased his eyes open. It was an infinitesimal movement that sent shocks of pain vibrating through his head, the clanging in his brain intensified to a fever pitch as if a dozen of his goblins had got hold of a hundred gongs. It was a mental image that made him whimper aloud and then he didn't recognize that thoroughly pathetic sound that had issued from his lips. Jareth, _King of Goblins!_, did not whimper. He growled, he purred, he snarled and smirked and sneered and under certain strenuous activities, he might groan a little but that parched wee noise that didn't even have the strength to be a whine had no place in his mouth.

"He's awake!" yelped an awestruck voice.

When Jareth finally had the mental and physical strength necessary to prop open an eyelid, he was rewarded by the sight of a young man with magnificent cheekbones, a permanently red flush to his cheeks and a bounceful of Botticelli curls. The eyes were round and blue, the mouth almost too wide; a strange, fascinatingly _familiar_ face. Jareth zoned into default mode as he tried to figure this out. And naturally, Jareth's default mode was:

"Am I in heaven?" he breathed, in a voice like raw silk.

Sarah appeared then, like an avenging angel, her eyes snapping furiously. Her dark hair was loose all about her oval face, her thick, arched eyebrows drawn ferociously downwards. Jareth hurriedly closed his eyes.

"Or maybe not," he muttered.

"Go get me a glass of water," Sarah said, in a tone that implied she wasn't entirely averse to some growling either.

"You've got some right there-" protested the young man – barely more than a boy really, Jareth would have noted if thoughts of more than a few syllables didn't make him feel like throwing up.

"_Now_," she said, in a tone of voice that made Jareth wonder if she wasn't in running to be the next Satan. The boy dragged his feet but he went, and Jareth heard suspicious clattering in another room. He could still feel Sarah burning by his side, her body heat warming him, her scent – of apples and sweat; sunlight dried grass and old books – dizzying him with its proximity.

He felt her arm snaked under his neck, propping him up. Even though this brief movement sent a quiver full of nausea through him, Jareth felt his insides spinning in a way no jaded Goblin King with any sort of self respect would admit to. A glass of water was held to his lips, "Drink." The order was sharp and annoyed.

"Is he your paramour?" Jareth asked when the inside of his mouth no longer felt as dry as goblin skin and he was confident that his favorite multisyllabic words wouldn't make him retch.

Sarah's "_What?_" was encouraging. "No!" she continued, in tones of high outrage. "He is definitely not! After everything you put us through, I'm surprised you didn't recognize him. That was Toby. My _brother_."

The world was wrong. Jareth stared up at her and she stared down at him, mismatched eyes meeting her dark ones with a world of certainty in them. "How old is he now?" Jareth asked at last.

"He's eighteen now. Two years younger than I am," said Sarah, puzzled. He should _know_ this. Unless, of course, Toby was just one of the countless children he spirited away and Sarah just another of many enraged guardians setting forth with guilt and a grudge burning – it might be easy to lose track then. How many girls had he said those words to then? Those words that haunted her most sleepless nights: "_How you turn my world, you precious thing_."

"He was a baby when I took him. Human time is fast, but it can't have been all that long ago," said Jareth.

Five years, Sarah could have told him. Five years of peace and quiet and frenzied dreams and twisted longings, when her heart seemed to turn over in her breast at the thought of seeing him again. "He was thirteen when you took him," she said sharply. "He remembers every minute of it. You must have mixed us up with someone else."

The look in Jareth's eyes went right through her heart, pooling in a warm tickle deep in her stomach. "No," he said simply. "No, I could never have."

Toby burst through the kitchen door then, arms akimbo with a great variety of things that made Sarah's eyebrows fly right up. "I thought he'd need more than water to keep up his strength," he declared cheerily, setting down a variety of bright colored, crackling plastic bags.

"Potato chips are not what you eat to keep up your strength, Toby."

"Sez _you_. "

Jareth stared at him. This tall boy still reminded him of that baby, the one he had dandled on his knee and planned to make his successor – the same bright mannerisms, trusting disposition. Even the same whiny temperament, it seemed, that had made his sister wish him so fervently away though both he and Sarah knew that it was two parts temper and one part selfishness that had really made her do it. Toby was really an impressive whiner; it had to be admitted as Jareth watched the two siblings wrangle in front of him. He had an uncanny ability of stretching words of only one syllable to a degree that made you want to stab him.

"You're both giving me a headache," drawled Jareth finally. "_Stop it_."

He felt a little burst of smug pride when they shut up and both wheeled to face him. Sarah's face was angry and anxious, wary and watching; Toby's was curious and a little cautious, but he couldn't help betraying the sheer joy he took in uncanny, extraordinary situations – yes, Jareth remembered that trait of his well. It was disconcerting and he knew he was not senile.

"You've grown," Jareth said, because he had to say something.

"You haven't," said Toby. "What are you doing here?" Instinctively, he knew Sarah had flinched and he reached out for his sister's shoulder and he could feel how tense she was, her tendons bunched tight.

"I'm here because your sister called me," said Jareth, glancing at Sarah and noting the way she blushed, the clenching of her jaw. Had she or hadn't she? The sound of her voice in his ears after so long was burned into his memories, he hadn't imagined it – he couldn't have! But here Sarah was, shaking her head, meeting his eyes steadily. And Toby was looking at her with hurt and a little fear, as if he remembered – but that was impossible! He had been but a babe then – Jareth closed his eyes tightly. "And when I tried to go back, I found that - I can't go back," he said, in a new and horrible tone of voice that made Sarah start towards him involuntarily. "I'm trapped here, in _your_ kingdom, Sarah and nothing is the way I remember it."

Sarah's hand was holding his tightly then, her head dipping downwards and her hair brushing across his hot face like a waterfall of silk. "You rest first," she said gently – had Sarah's voice ever been gentle towards him? Defiant, daring, frightened, pleading, yes, but never like this… "Come on now, get up. You'll fall off the couch. We'll talk later, alright?"

"I am exhausted," murmured Jareth, barely conscious of two pairs of strong young arms supporting him towards a bedroom.

"Don't live up to my expectations, don't do anything right now," murmured Sarah as Toby left to find more blankets. Aware of the stupidity of doing so, she brushed a strand of spiky hair away from his angled face and felt her heartbeat speed up dangerously. "I promise you, I'll try to make it all okay."

But Jareth was asleep. Toby entered silently and laid a duvet by his side. The siblings looked at each other in consternation then, but Sarah put a finger to her lips and led the way out of the room. The door shut softly behind them.

**

The goblins were careening around the throne room as usual, not without the unusual feeling that something was wrong. The throne was empty – but Jareth was often away from days on end and as for the huge mirror that now hung directly behind it – well, their king was very vain. They wouldn't have been surprised if he had conjured it in the night when no one was around.

Someone, somewhere, watched everything and smiled.


	3. In Which the Plot Thickens

Living with his sister could be cool, Toby would admit grudgingly and never in Sarah's hearing. Most days, he was fairly happy that his father had accepted the transfer to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. He missed his mom sometimes, of course, but knew perfectly well that expecting their parents to stay separated for an indefinite period of time would be like asking a PETA member to eat a kitten. Sarah's mom checked in on them fairly often and Toby liked her, the first Mrs. Williams was glamorous, always smelled of sunshine and ruffled his hair companionably with her scarlet talons. She was practical too and always managed to make sure that a head of cabbage and some carrots were present in the fridge, despite Toby's best machinations. All in all, there were worse ways to be spending the last year of high school with your older sister – even if she did think that being an English major in _her second year, whoo boy_ made her queen of the universe, even if she had once wished you away to the Goblin King – who snored, incidentally –

"How's it?" inquired his friend Robin Hob lazily, pushing his math homework towards Toby. "No, man, take it. Judging from your face, I don't think you got much homework done. There's an 'oh shizzit' glaze about your eyes."

"Thanks," said Toby gratefully, flipping open the pages and starting to write.

"Faster than that. Hardcastle's being himself today, only more so." And Robin laughed to see Toby's writing speed up to the point where Toby had to leave off for a few minutes, panting and massaging the cramp in his hand. Toby shot his tousle-haired friend a look which Robin answered with a grin that crinkled up his pansy eyes and the bridge of his big nose. "What's up with you anyway? You're jumpy."

"Am I?" demurred Toby, and then seeing his friend's eyes still fixed curiously on him, he shrugged. "Nah, it's just," _there's this Goblin King, see, who thinks I should be about five_, "Sarah and I had a bit of a talk," _about that time she wished me away_, "and I couldn't sleep too well after that," _because aforesaid Goblin King is asleep on my bed and I had to use the couch, "_nothing big."

"Cool," nodded Robin. And then Hardcastle swept into the room looking like all his PMSes had come at once and Robin hurriedly snatched back his homework as quickly as Toby was still trying to copy it and both of them got yelled at.

Despite his burning ears, Toby felt himself grateful for this semblance of normality. It was something that had been severely lacking the night before.

**

"I didn't call him, Toby," Sarah said quietly, closing the door softly behind them.

"He said you did," snarled her brother, whirling on her. The look on Toby's face made Sarah's heart ache with an entirely different feeling from when she had watched Jareth slip into sleep. Her brother's face looked like she had bleached all the color from it, except for the two livid red spots that had crawled up into his cheeks. His eyes were very dark, very scared and _hurt._"You don't have to _lie_ to me, Sarah! But – smokin' oaks! – what did I do?"

"Nothing! Toby, you're my brother, I couldn't - I wouldn't -" Sarah stopped short, remembering that she could, she would – once – and she _had_. Toby's eyes were laughing unpleasantly at her and she could tell that he was thinking the same bruise-purple thing. Sarah took a deep breath and placed her hands gently on her brother's shoulders, "Toby. I know I did it once. And I'd never do it again. I mean – despite everything," she took a deep breath and looked her brother in the eye. Uncomfortable as she was with demonstrations of affection, Toby's eyes were so pained and pleading, wanting so badly to be convinced, "even though you like talking like a child on a bad Eighties' sitcom, and even though you hog the bathroom and leave your underwear all over the place – I promise you, I'd go through hell and back for you."

"But he said-"

"Toby, I think he's confused – maybe someone else called him and he got mixed up. He doesn't really remember us that well," here Sarah looked away, and Toby didn't see the look in her eyes. "He thinks you were a baby when you were – kidnapped."

"But I wasn't-"

"I know. And Toby, I'm – I'm sorry. I don't know if I ever told you. But I'm sorrier than you'll ever know."

Sarah's hands were clenched tightly into the cloth of his t-shirt. Toby could feel her fingers pressing right into his bones and when he looked at her, there were tears in her eyes and that took all the wind out of his sails. "Er. Well. Okay," he said. "Okay. I believe you. Sorry. Jeez Louise, you can let go of me now. Er."

Sarah sniffed damply and turned away. "Good. Anyway," she was brisk and sharp. "We're going to have to figure out what to _do_ with him."

"You're not going to toss him out, are you?" gasped Toby, horrorstruck. There was no doubt in his mind that the Goblin King would never survive the night without getting run over. Even if the man – if he was a man - could stand, something that didn't seem to be likely to happen any time soon, it was all too likely that he would get run over by a truck. Jareth probably thought that arching an eyebrow, tight pants and glitter and all, with a commanding "Cease" would stop a car. Maybe in his own world it would – if they had cars there – but definitely not here, and with Jareth in such bad shape, it was doubtful he could have stopped a chicken.

Sarah looked very, very tired. "No," she almost whispered. "We can't do that. He's in absolutely no condition to do anything besides sleep." She put a hand to her head and closed her eyes. "Right," she said, as commandingly as she could, eyes still closed. "I don't think there's anything else we can do right now so we might as well not worry about it. You've got school tomorrow so – shouldn't you be doing your math homework?"

Toby pointed at the room they had just left. "My stuff's in there," he said laconically.

A flash of annoyance crossed Sarah's face as she opened her eyes and glared at her brother with half the heart and half the venom. "Don't get used to using him as an excuse, buddy," she advised. "Things aren't going to stay this way for long." The unspoken warning was, _I'll see to __**that.**_

**

Sarah was puttering about the kitchen, uneasily putting things away. Every creak, every squeak, every infinitesimal noise of the house made her whirl around, half expecting to see a tall and glorious Goblin King who would promptly pin her up against the fridge and ravish her on the kitchen table – somehow, in Sarah's confused imagination, he always managed to do both at the same time. Normally on days when she didn't have classes, Sarah would be hunkered down with a thick book or fervently trying to memorize concepts like 'romanticism', 'ut pictura' and 'ekphrasic' but it was simply asking too much to her to concentrate today. All of her seemed jammed into that little closet Toby called a bedroom, waiting for Jareth to awake.

And when he finally deigned to do so, it was hardly in a blaze of glory either. Sarah looked up to find him staggering from the room, looking left and right furtively and blearily as if he was waiting for great, black spiders to emerge and eat him. He almost looked as if he would be grateful for this; maybe the horror of being masticated slowly would jolt him awake from this nightmare. The expression was hauntingly familiar, and Sarah realized that her own face had worn that look during her adventures in the Labyrinth. Only she hoped she hadn't looked half as terrible as that.

"Good morning," she said softly.

Jareth jumped, looked at her and then closed his eyes and groaned.

Sarah scowled. "Good to see you too," she said tartly. "Pleasant morning, isn't it? Or should I say afternoon."

Jareth appeared to be slapping himself around the face and murmuring, "Wake up, wake up, wake up…"

"I'm still here," Sarah reminded him.

"And you're still wearing clothes," said Jareth, distraught. "That proves I'm not dreaming. _Damn_!"

Sarah's face went hot and red, but most of all, she was shocked at the sudden and stark jump of her hormones at his words. The little downy hairs at the back of her neck and on her arms stood up at the thought of being naked in front of Jareth, having him touch her lightly with those leather gloves still on, looking up and seeing her desire mirrored in his mismatched eyes. And then he would move in and close whatever distance there was between their two bodies and of course his clothes would mysteriously melt away and then they would –

… Steady on, girl!

"What did you say?" Sarah heard her own voice as if from far away. She looked up from her lap and met Jareth's quizzical eyes. But instead of giving her a knowing smirk or a leer, he looked merely impatient as he repeated the question in an insultingly slow manner:

"I said, I was hungry. Get me something to eat."

Sarah's eyes were starting to flash when at that propitious moment, Toby burst into the house. He made a great deal of clattering as things – presumably his bag, books and shoes – went flying and he burst into the living room. "Sarah, I'm starving, do we have anything in the fridge – oh," he said stupidly. "Hullo. I didn't think you'd be up yet. Er…"

"Hello, Sarah," called a reserved voice from the hallway.

"You. Brought. A Friend. _Home?_" hissed Sarah.

"Er, well," Toby started to say, beginning to look hunted, "I tried to stop him, but Robin insisted on coming with me and I just couldn't say no-"

"Couldn't say 'no'! Here, I'll teach you! Repeat after me, EN-OH. NO!"

"Sarah-"

"_Toby-_"

The tension in the room thickened almost audibly. Sarah and Toby nearly swallowed their tongues at the sharp and sudden intake of air from either Jareth or Toby's friend. Shooting Jareth a quick, alarmed glance, Sarah noticed that Jareth was suddenly all Goblin King. His chin lifted regally, his eyes were cool, imperious, haughty and he was dangerous again, old and elven and nothing her human mind could comprehend anymore. Toby, staring at Robin, gulped at the sight of his friend's face - always sharp and laughing, there was no longer anything human about it in a way that Toby couldn't pinpoint. Those great, velvety eyes were still the same - but deeper somehow, and clearer and more knowing than any mortal's eyes had any right to be.

"Robin Goodfellow," Jareth said icily.

"Goblin King," and Robin Hob bowed. Toby's heart began to race as he noticed for the first time that his friend's ears were just a little pointy.

"…uck," swore Sarah, looking first from Jareth to Robin. Toby shot her a confused look.

"Why'd you-"

"_Puck_," repeated Sarah. "'That merry wanderer of the night…'"

"Is that what your lot think of him?" snorted Jareth. "Funny. It's more like homicidal psychopath where we come from."

Robin straightened up and his smile was the most beautiful that Toby had ever seen. "Fancy meeting you here! Quite the coincidence, wouldn't you say, sire?"

In two strides, Jareth was across the room and both Sarah and Toby's eyes widened. This man weak; this man whimpering? There was no connection between the stumbling, exhausted Jareth of last night to this magnificent, frightening Goblin King who was furious with all the cold rage of an ice storm. Robin tried to dodge, but in a slice of a second, Jareth had him by the collar in one swift, terrible move. And still Robin – _Puck_ – laughed.

"What do you have to do with this, Robin Goodfellow?" drawled Jareth, with a smile like a dagger playing about the corners of his long ironical mouth.

"Oh nothing, my lord," purred Robin, "I did nothing."

And just before Jareth tightened his hold dangerously, the sprite winked at Toby. "But know everything," he chuckled, soft and low.


End file.
